


Midnight Cravings

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Post Rittenhouse, Pregnancy, They deserve a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 20:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: Slowly, cautiously, she slipped out of bed, watching him closely. His breathing didn't change, and she exhaled, making her way out of the room. All things considered, it wasn't as if a midnight ice cream craving would be hard to explain, but she didn't want to lie to him, and she-She knew she had to tell him. And she would. Soon.





	Midnight Cravings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AVirtoMusae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVirtoMusae/gifts).



> Hello, everyone!! A couple of things to note about this fic: 
> 
> 1\. Lucy is a tiny bit more emotional than she probably normal would be. Blame pregnancy hormones. 
> 
> 2\. This is a combination of a couple of Tumblr prompts: "Garcy+Ice Cream," given by an anonymous user, and "I noticed," from a list of 100 ways to say "I love you," given by AVirtoMusae. I hope everyone enjoys!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.

She wanted ice cream. It was her first thought, before she was even fully conscious, eyes fluttering in the darkness. No, it wasn't just that she wanted ice cream. She needed it, desperately. Wouldn't rest until she had it.

She craved it.

To be fair, it wasn't the worst thing this baby had made her crave.

This baby. She glanced at Garcia, relieved when he didn't stir. In the summer, he tended to sprawl out, shoving blankets aside, as if trying to let every ounce of cool air wash over him. (It hadn't been like that in the beginning. For the first two years of their marriage, he had clung to her every night, as if he was afraid she would disappear.)

Slowly, cautiously, she slipped out of bed, watching him closely. His breathing didn't change, and she exhaled, making her way out of the room. All things considered, it wasn't as if a midnight ice cream craving would be hard to explain, but she didn't want to lie to him, and she-

She knew she had to tell him. And she would. Soon. But what-ifs danced through her mind, half-thoughts of him being disappointed, or even angry. They'd never talked about kids, and she'd always assumed that wasn't in their future. He already had a child, and he told her once that he didn't think he could be a father again after the things he'd done. What if he felt like he didn't deserve this? What if he was afraid? (What if he left, just like everyone else?)

She shoved the thoughts aside, focusing on her mission. Ice cream now, freak out later. She could practically taste it, melting on her tongue, and she was half-convinced she'd eat the whole carton, but when she opened the freezer, she blinked.

No ice cream.

To her horror, she felt tears pricking at her eyes, and she furiously tried to wipe them away. This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, so she absolutely wasn't crying over ice cream. 

What was wrong with her? How could she be a mother when she couldn't even handle something like this? Stupid Lucy. Stupid, stupid...

(She knew pregnancy hormones were supposed to suck, but this was just ridiculous.)

She sank to the ground, buried her face in her hands, and tried in vain to collect herself. Her mother's voice echoed through her mind, sharp and disappointed. "Oh, Lucy, really? Does it always have to be a scene with you?"

"Lucy?" It took her a moment to recognize the voice, to separate it from her memories. But this one was concerned, thick with sleep, and with a decidedly different accent. She lifted her head, wishing she could will him away. He was definitely going to ask questions now, and this wasn't remotely how she wanted to tell him. "What's wrong?"

He was at her side in an instant, resting a hand on her back, steadying her. She took a breath, tried to gather herself, and closed her eyes. "We're out of ice cream," she admitted in a small voice, bracing herself for his response. At best, he would laugh at her for the overreaction.

There was a pause, almost deafening, as he took in her words. Then, he pulled his hand away, leaving her cold and mortified. His footsteps were muffled as he walked, but she could still hear them, drawing away from her. Walking away. Leaving her there on the lonely tile. She shouldn't have been surprised.

(But it was him-he was supposed to be different-he wasn't supposed to leave her-he promised-)

He wasn’t leaving her, she reminded herself. Probably just giving her space, because he didn’t know what to say. Except, when she opened her eyes, he was pulling on his coat. 

"Where-" Her voice cracked, and she took a breath, steadied herself, and tried again. "Where are you going?" Maybe Rufus and Jiya would let him in. Or the Logans? He and Wyatt got along much better these days, but she couldn't imagine that being his first choice. Or-

He blinked at her, answering slowly, as if suspecting some sort of trap. "To get ice cream?"

What? "It's..." She glanced at the clock by the refrigerator, frowning. "Three in the morning."

The words didn't even seem to register. "But you want ice cream."

Oh, that wonderful, ridiculous man. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, without quite meaning to. "I shouldn't have-I'm so sorry." Whether she was apologizing for doubting him, for making a scene, or both, she wasn't sure. Her carefully held control shattered, and she buried her face in her hands to hide the tears.

"Hey, hey, no, sweetheart, you have-" His voice was low and pained. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Okay?" She wanted to agree, but she couldn't even find her voice. In the next second, the ground quite literally wasn't solid beneath her, as she found herself swept into the air, cradled in arms that were as familiar as her own. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to his shirt.

"Flynn...." She called him Garcia most days now, of course, but sometimes, in moments like this, the name she had called him for so many years slipped out. The name that had gone from enemy to friend to shelter during her darkest times. He never protested when it happened, just held her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair.

He somehow maneuvered the walk back to their room, lowering her to the bed, letting go of her just long enough to shrug off his coat, crawl in behind her, and pull the covers over both of them. Then he tugged her close, drawing her into the safety of his arms. She turned to face him, pressing as close as she could, her tears soaking his shirt.

"I've got you, sweetheart," he murmured, before slipping into Croatian, murmuring reassurances in his native tongue. He used to hate that instinct, would apologize for not being able to hold onto English when emotions ran high, but she assured him that she didn't mind. It was soothing, the gentle cadence of his words, even if she didn't understand exactly what they meant. In her experience, love was always louder than language.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, him rubbing circles on her back, sheltering her from the chaotic emotions swirling inside her, before finally, the tears slowed. Still, she made no effort no move. She was warm, comfortable, and so very loved. 

With that thought in mind, she knew it was time.

Inhale. Exhale. She could do this.

"Garcia?"

"Hm?"

She pulled back enough that her words wouldn't be completely muffled, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, so she fixed her gaze on the spot above his heart. Braced herself. "I'm pregnant."

He didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, didn't miss a breath. In fact, he hardly reacted at all, except for a low murmur. "I know." He sounded impossibly soft, tender, and fond, and just the slightest bit amused.

Of all the responses she’d considered, this one wasn’t even on the list. "What? How did you-when did you-?" A million questions ran through her head, and she couldn't seem to catch one to ask, so she simply sat up, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

He chuckled quietly, reaching for her hand, and looked up at her sleepily. "I have done this before," he reminded her, but gently. "When you started the cravings, the unexpected aches...." A pointed, but gentle look. "The mood swings... I noticed."

Of course he did. He really had been right, all those years ago, even if he'd been going about things all the wrong way. He really did know her better than she knew herself sometimes. "So why didn't you say anything?"

He considered the question a moment, toying with her fingers. "I knew you'd tell me when you were ready."

From the very beginning, he had always held so much faith in her. It should have shattered when he realized that she wasn't the Lucy he'd built up in his mind, fearless and unstoppable. Maybe it had, for a time, but then it had come back, quieter and more patient, but still there. He believed in her, even when she couldn't find the strength to believe in herself.

It seemed horrible to say, all of the sudden, but she knew he deserved the truth. "I just... I wasn't sure you'd be happy," she admitted quietly. Her eyes burned, but she took her free hand, stopping any tears before they could fall. She was so very tired of crying. (How was she going to handle eight more months of this?)

He drew in a sharp breath, and stared down at the mattress between them. "When I realized.... I was terrified. All I could think was-" His words caught in his throat, a sure sign that he was thinking about his time as her enemy, the things he had done, the damage he had done. She lay back down beside him, tugging his hand to rest over her heart, silently urging him on. "John Rittenhouse," he admitted with a sigh. 

Of course. That moment, more than any other, haunted his dreams and memories.

"And what I said, about how I couldn't be a father again. I meant that, Lucy. I believed that. I..." He shook his head. "I still don't know how I'm going to do this." He paused, and she traced the back of his hand with her fingertips. Squeezed gently. "But I want to."

The quiet confession hung in the air between them, full of implications and memories of people long lost. He finally met her eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. "And Lucy, the things we've faced together, the things we've done... Impossible things. With you by my side, I... I really do think we can do anything."

There it was, that insurmountable faith that stole her breath away. "Garcia..."

He rested his free hand against her stomach, eyes dancing. (And if they were suspiciously wet, well, maybe it was his turn to cry. "We're going to be parents, Lucy," he breathed, soft and awed, and in that moment, all of her fears faded to the background.

"I love you, Garcia," she whispered, pressing her lips to his. His reply was lost against her mouth, but she knew it, as surely as she knew herself.

Everything was going to be okay. They had each other, and they had their child. They finally had their future.

(And in the morning, after a short grocery run, Lucy finally had her ice cream.)

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: This is one of three pregnant!Lucy or possibly pregnant!Lucy fics I'm working on right now. I have no idea how this happened. Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


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